• Mr. David Harris sighed in frustration as he watched his final client for the night look for a pen to sign with. The dirty, older man gave up and turned hopefull eyes at David. With another, louder, sigh, the lawyer uncliped his expensive-looking fountain pen from his jacket and handed it over. The man took it slowly from him with slightly shaking hands. Before he signed though, he cast on last glance at the legal document before him.
    "It is getting late, Mr. Hollow. Can we hurry this up?" David asked with a biting undertone. He wanted to get this over with, but really didn't care if the man tryed to read the fine print; it was so full of jargon that only a lawyer could understand. The man jerked up in responce, but scratched out his signiture with his shaking hands. David's lips almost curled into a discust filled sneer, but the anount of money he was swindling out of this old fool forced the expression down.
    As soon as he was done, David snatched the papers and shoved them into his briefcase before the ink was even dried. Standing quickly, David ushered the man out of his office and slamed the door in his face. He sighed, in relief this time, but was interupted by a timid knock on his door. With a growl of annoyance, David threw open the door to reveal a startled Mr. Hollow. "When should I see you next?'
    "A month...no, fifteen days. The papers should be well finalized by then." David shut the door once again and leaned his back on it. He waited a half hour to calm himself down, even going as far as downing three shots of the liqour hidden in his office, before leaving for home. He thought about stopping and picking someone up t entertain him for the night, but ignored it. Even if his wife had become a prune because of thier dabt, he refused to name it totally his own, he was bound in a sacred oath.
    So caught up in his thoughts, David didn't see the sharp turn of the road or the small gas station he ran his car into. His car and papers caught fire in the following explosion.
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    Two days later, an old man watched silently as the people surrounding the grave walked away, leaving him to do his job. The last one to leave was Mrs. Harris, who stood over the coffin with a sour look on her face. It was with one final glare that she turned and walked away. The man took his time moving over to the abandoned spot; its not like he was in any hurry. Dead people had all the paitience in the world.
    Grinning slightly as he lifted his shovel, Stephin Hollow cast a cool gaze on the dark wooden box. As he dropped the first plop of dirt onto its shined surface, he found himself almost cackling in glee. "It was only three days afterall, Mr. Harris..."